


Thanksgiving Traditions

by giors1



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Family Feels, Implied Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:45:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giors1/pseuds/giors1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thanksgiving and each family has its own traditions. Especially in front of a particular house in Mifflin Street...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanksgiving Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Once Upon A Time and its characters.

The knock at the door is everything but unexpected.

 

"Hi". Emma opens and a chill wind caresses her face.

"Hello, sweetheart". That’s her favorite nickname for her daughter. "Is she here?" Mary Margaret sometimes completely forgets what tact actually is.

"Of course she’s here, mum…". Emma is not even bothered. She already knows that Thanksgiving is the holiday where her mother is at her best. "…she lives here!".

 

Mary Margaret is still outside, dealing with the usual hesitation she feels when she reaches Mifflin Street. “I brought a cake. Did you cook?”

"No, mum. Regina did. And you should see yourself how great the turkey looks"

"So you haven’t cooked…" Mary Margaret doesn’t even try to hide her discomfort. And Emma knows she will be the most mature of all the guests, tonight.

"Mum, I’m not the maid here. Even if I was the one opening the door…"

"Oh, I know dear… You’re a princess! Never forget it! And try to remind it to…her". Emma realizes it’s Snow White speaking, and not the gentle teacher known as Mary Margaret.

"Right. And…it’s Regina, by the way. Not her. And she’s the one who’s cooking for all of us, so…don’t you think it’s enough for my princely rank?”

"But you opened the door…" For a moment, Emma thinks her mother has drunk all the bottles of beer available in Maine.

"Mum, again…I’m not the maid. I opened the door because Regina is in the other room, cooking, and this is my house too. And, surprise, sometimes I also open the door when someone knocks".

"Did she use apples?" Mary Margaret’s choice of questions is probably influenced by something stronger than alcohol, Emma thinks.

"No. I’ve personally checked and tasted everything". Emma is starting to freeze and the surreal conversation she’s having with her mother is not helping.

 

Mary Margaret gets closer to Emma, and the suspicious look she has suggests that the next question or statement will have no logic at all. “Does she treat you well?” The voice of the brunette is really low, when she asks the question. Meanwhile, Emma is surprised by the fact that, in her mother’s breath, there’s no evidence of drinking or smoking.

"Yes, mum. She does. She’s done it for five years, now. Five years of marriage and two of hiding our relationship to you. Seven!" Emma is really cold, now. But mostly, hungry. "She treats me wonderfully, she treats Henry wonderfully. The twins are amazing…".

Mary Margaret is almost giving up and seems ready to get in the house. Because it’s really cold, but also because she’s the only person of the family not enjoying the warm of the fireplace in the dining room.

"Mum…come in, please. David is already inside…he has already drunk two beers with my wife. Which were non-alcoholic, but he hasn’t realized it. It’s late and I’m hungry…" Emma is on the verge of calling Regina to get some help.

 

"And..?" Mary Margaret shows her last sign of pride.

 

"And every damn year you’re the last one joining our dinner, you ask me the same old stupid questions about house, food and apples…while you purposely keep me at the door, outside in the fucking freezing cold. And, for the fifth year in a row, I know you will end up loving our dinner and our kids and our time together". Emma is literally exploding.

Mary Margaret smiles. Suddenly, she enters and closes the door behind her back. Emma follows, speechless. Eventually, Mary Margaret screams “I’m here!”.

Now, Emma is more than just perplexed. More perplexed than the previous year.

 

With a smirk, she whispers to her daughter “Happy Thanksgiving”. 

And simply adds “One day you will love these little traditions I’m trying to create, sweetheart…”


End file.
